


Day 77

by orphan_account



Category: Glee
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-03
Updated: 2012-05-03
Packaged: 2017-11-04 18:09:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/396720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She'll get there. She just needs her spark back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day 77

Graduation is soon.

I've spent most of my free non-Cheerios, non-glee, non-B time at Q's bedside, both hospital and home.  _Someone_  has to keep her perked up through recovery, after all, but she's still so fucking  _broken_. Not just her legs and shit - because  _duh_  - but this whole paraplegia deal has, like, sapped her will to live. Maybe singing at her some Bee Gees song about dancing wasn't exactly the  _best_  idea but I'll just blame that shit on Blaine the wonderboy. Still though, I go hang with her almost everyday and it's like she's just  _giving up_. She won't talk about glee or Yale or even hot guys at the mall or whatever.

The spark's just... _gone_.

"Your shows are boring. Give me the remote."

That doesn't stop her from being a royal  _bitch_  when she wants to be, though.

I give her my patented side eye-and-smirk combo. My deadliest weapon. "No."

"Excuse me?" I can feel her glare from across the room. Her bedroom, that is, where we chill everyday after school and practice and shit.

"You heard me. You're whiny and annoying so no, I won't give you a  _damn thing_."

" _Excuse me?_ "

Okay,  _fine_ , so we're going to play indignant. I mute the tv and turn to give her my full attention. "I saw you at therapy today, Q. All  _woe is me_  and  _I can't do this_. Fuck your noise. Your doctors said you have a good fucking chance at walking before you ship off to college and you're just sitting here all mopey because  _it's so hard_. So you know what? You can have your remote when you walk over here and  _take_  it from me. Until then, we watch what  _I_  want to watch. How's that?" She growls and launches some old paperback she'd been reading. It slaps me clean across the face and I can't help but laugh. Guess her  _arms_  still work just fine, at least.

" _Fuck_  you, Santana. You have no idea-"

"You're fucking  _right_  I have no idea and I never will because unlike you, _I'm_ not braindead enough to screw with my phone while driving."

Her face is on fucking  _fire_  now.

"That's right, Q. Get  _mad_ \- at me, at your legs, at that truck, at  _your own fucking self_. Maybe there's still some of that old Quinn Fabray left in there." Yeah, she's about to just rip my head clean off now. "Maybe she'll actually  _bust her ass_  instead of throwing herself fucking  _pity parties_  all day."

I swear I can see smoke just  _pouring_  out of her ears. "Get out," she grits. "Get out  _now_."

I just smirk and shake my head as I stand to leave. "See you tomorrow, Q."

Of course, I totally set the remote up on her dresser before I bounce. Messing with her  _is_  still pretty fun and her, " _Dammit, Santana!_ " roar carries me on out her front door. She'll get there. She just needs her spark back.


End file.
